


Marry in April if You Can, Joy for Maiden and for Man

by Lillian



Series: April verse [1]
Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Bisexuality, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-30
Updated: 2010-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:44:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillian/pseuds/Lillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She still wants to marry in a dress</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marry in April if You Can, Joy for Maiden and for Man

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and I'm making no money of their use.

Morgana has changed a lot in the five years since she left Camelot, left too much of what used to be important to her behind. She still wants to marry in a dress.

She tells Merlin as much, in the pre-dawn twilight of their wedding day, her face a bare inch from his in the bed they share. Merlin promises her, unsurprised. It probably seems such an insignificant thing after all the other promises they've made to each other.

All the promises they are about to make.

Still, Merlin doesn't get up, if anything he moves closer into her body. Morgana doesn't blame him, really, it would be foolish of him to leave her alone for a second. He smells like hay, sweat and fear, and strangely, of pine needles. Morgana shifts until the tip of her nose touches the corner of his jaw and waits for the sun to come up.

 

~ ~ ~

 

They buy the dress together.

Morgana ponders over green wool or blue linen while the seamstress fidgets next to her. Merlin had washed the last remnants of Morgana's blood off his face, his own much less obvious in Morgana's scruffy plait, but two strangers in chain mail, one of them a woman, are bound to be cause for fear.

"The green one," Merlin says suddenly, and then, after her questioning look, adds. "It'll bring out your eyes."

He looks embarrassed, as if they hadn't rutted like animals scant hours ago, Merlin holding Morgana's head back with one hand tangled in her hair, snarling, when she'd bit him on the neck.

Morgana smiles at him, a smile she hasn't worn almost as long as she hasn't owned a dress. It feels rusty on her face. She hopes Merlin doesn't notice.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Morgana does what she can, but she's not had a bath for weeks now and a comb seems like an unthinkable luxury. Merlin's arm brushes against hers while they walk to the chapel. He's left his armour back, just as she has, and his shirt billows in the crisp spring breeze. He's probably cold, but he doesn't show it.

The priest is smart, enough that he doesn't comment on the impropriety of the couple. They ask to sign a contract, all very Roman, and he doesn't even flinch when Merlin slits his skin and signs in blood, or when Morgana does the same and the whole parchment glows crimson for a brief second. The seven years of Arthur's reign have done wonders for people's tolerance of magic, it seems.

The priest asks them to kneel and clasp their right hands, and they do. Morgana thinks idly of Gwen's wedding, gold and wine and flowers and splendour. Gwen had looked really majestic, except when she smiled. Then she looked like a giddy little girl who had gotten the dolly she'd wanted.

Merlin passes Morgana her bride price, a single gold piece, a little apologetically. It's a more than a fair price for Morgana's virtue.

She stares at Merlin, sharp and beautiful, as he stares back at her. He's not listening to the priest either, Morgana knows. He's not important, just a formality so that Arthur could not refuse to acknowledge their joining.

Merlin's fingers slip out of hers for a few moments, go to the ring on his left hand. Morgana gives him her father's seal ring, puts it on his thumb the way she's been wearing it, Merlin's bony fingers almost as thin as her own. The ring she gets in return is finely woven silver, the only one Merlin has on him. Arthur's gift, Morgana knows, and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the thought of Arthur's expression when he finds out his lover has married his sister with it. He wouldn't have much right to complain, being married himself, but that never used to stop Arthur.

Merlin moves closer, still on his knees. Morgana, who's dreamed his and Arthur's first meeting several times now, feels fleeting satisfaction that Merlin's knee-walking for her.

They kiss once, proper and shallow, and then again, helpless, lingering. Morgana tastes the inside of Merlin's mouth and he scrapes his teeth against her tongue.

Later, they split the bridal bread between themselves and watch red liquid seep into the ground, Morgana's mare in exchange for blessing from the Old Religion.

 

~ ~ ~

 

A few miles from Camelot Merlin leans in from where he's riding behind her, whispers in her ear.

Morgana's skin breaks into gooseflesh when she spreads her cloak next to Merlin's on the damp grass under a birch tree. She lets Merlin pry her dress off with chilly fingers, her hands playing with the hair on his chest and the small curls behind his ears. He kneels and Morgana settles in his lap, ready, she's been ready for hours, sinks down until Merlin is all the way within her, snug and secure.

It's soft now, not like before. Merlin mouths clumsily at her breast and shoulder, clutching her hips. Morgana gasps into his hair, arms tight about his shoulders. She can feel the magic under his skin, a pulse stronger than that of his heart. It is a bottomless sea under a leaf-thin cover of ice, and Morgana prays that last barrier holds even as she hopes for it to break.

Pleasure rolls over her in a shocking, electric wave, too soon, and Merlin doesn't try to stop her this time when she sinks her teeth into tense sinew.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Morgana enters Camelot with wetness still trickling down her thighs and the knowledge Merlin's bearing her mark on his neck.

It'll have to be enough.


End file.
